


Up Against a Wall

by Kimra



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allusions to Sexual Assault, M/M, No sexual assault, Pre-Slash, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimra/pseuds/Kimra
Summary: Stiles is up against a wall, in a not good way. Vampires are such creeps.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 85





	Up Against a Wall

There’s a hot breath against his neck, and he’s read this book, but it repels him. He shouldn’t be surprised that there’s as much lie to this myth as all the others, but he is.

“I thought I was supposed to like it.” He complains, because he’s pushed up against an alley wall by someone at least as strong as a werewolf, and he’s got no other moves.

Teeth drag against his neck and he’s wanted this before, just not from this guy. “I’ve got better things to do,” the man murmurs into the skin of his neck, “than waste my time making you want it.”

Stiles is floored. Absolutely floored by how much that irks him. He’s about to be killed, probably, certainly what’s about to happen is without his will or consent, and the damn bastard can’t even be bothered to make it good for him? “Wow, selfish.” He snarks, “you don’t deserve half the credit your kind’s given online.” Because if he’s going to die, he could at least be given the euphonic shenanigans he’d been promised in fiction. He’s experienced enough blind agonising pain, it’d honestly be a relief. “What, not up to it? A bit beyond your… skill set?” If he was facing the guy he’d waggle his eyebrows to drive the sexual meaning home, instead the effort to do it just rubs his eyebrows against the brick wall which achieves nothing. The guy makes an annoyed sounds and long nails pierce into the skin at the base of his skull. They are fine pinpricks compared to a werewolf’s claws. Stiles is reconsidering exactly how much effort it would take to kill the blood sucker. “You know, they have a pill for that,” he continues relentlessly, “little red pill to get you going.” He pauses for dramatic effect which is wasted on the heathen. “You know, red because-“ he’s slammed into the wall so fast he doesn’t even have the time to realise he was pulled away from it before the side of his face is mashed up against the brick again, but this time with more bruises. Yay. “You have anger issues.” He pants because it’s getting harder to breath but he’s not going to stop talking until he can’t. “Really, you should see a therapist about that.”

“Shut up.” The man – vampire, because it’s not really a man is it? It’s another stupid monster from nightmares that has become an everyday reality for Stiles – orders with an ice like fury. Stiles isn’t impressed, he deals with Peter on a daily basis still, no-ones as creepy as Peter Hale on a good day, yet alone a ‘trying to kill everyone because I have issues’ day.

“Or maybe a priest.” Stiles adds, because if he’s lucky he’ll goad the damn thing into killing him too fast. It’s not his best game plan, but he doesn’t feel like berating himself right now, he’s got other issues to contend with. The vampire honestly growls and it punches a laugh out of Stiles so sharp and fierce that nothing could control it. “Oh man,” he laughs harder, quivers with the ridiculousness of it, “you have-“ he has a little trouble breathing, the weight of the monster or just the laughter he’s not sure, “-you have got to let me live so I can tell Scott that you just growled at me.” He looks over his shoulder at the thing, it’s barely made a move on him since holding him there, hasn’t nicked the skin or made a mark yet, Stiles isn’t sure why, but he loves the perplexed look he’s getting from a guy whose probably scared more victims stupid than any trashy horror movie vampire should. “Please,” Stiles croons delighted, “please please please don’t kill me. Not after giving me that gold.” His grin is not kind, but why would it be? It seems to tip the vampire over the edge into homicidal. Stiles pretends that’s good, and braces himself to die or die trying not to die. Odds are good he’ll get one of those downpat. And then, before the teeth lined up along his jugular even puncture in, they get interrupted.

There’s no discussion about what’s about to happen, no question or even warning. Stiles is smushed up against the stupid alley wall one moment, some creeper up in his space, and the next he’s half wrenched off the wall, when the vampire holding him is barrelled into. The only reason he doesn’t hit the ground amidst the assault is that the vampire loses his grip and after that it’s hell for leather. In that he’s not sure where that saying comes from, or what exactly it means, but there is a vampire being mauled by a werewolf at his feet and it turns out vampires aren’t much dice against a werewolf.

“Huh.” He says as Derek rips the thing to pieces.

When it’s done, when the vampire’s made a half choked off gurgling noise and then its body has, sort of, collapsed in on itself, Stiles allows the world to resettle into one in which he gets to live again. It’s disturbing how quickly he’s allowed to be comfortable with the win, he thinks logically that that might mean there’s something wrong with him. But also he’s alive, so he doesn’t care today.

“Twilight was wrong.” He decides to tell Derek when the man’s shaken bits of dead vampire off his hands and turned to face him. Derek’s expression crunches up adorably, or at least Stiles decides it’s adorable because honestly that mans face doesn’t know how to make an ugly expression.

“Please don’t tell me you read Twilight.” He begs, and Stiles grins wide.

“Of course I did, all four of them. Lydia was reading it, so I went out and read them over a weekend.” Derek looks pained on multiple levels. Stiles grin never waivers. “And man those vampires were tanks. This guy,” he waves vaguely at the remains that have started to… melt? Stiles does not want to think about that too much, “he was all baby bunny, easy prey.”

“For a werewolf maybe.” Derek guides them both out of the alley because Stiles can’t stop watching the rapid decomposition of the vampire’s body. Actually it’s kind of cool, and convenient, because now his dad’s not going to find it and start asking questions.

“Yeah well Twilight had werewolves.”

“Can we not?” Derek begs, and Stiles thinks it’s probably enough of that for now but earmarks it as a topic for later, because that is a golden opportunity he’s been passing on up until now. The problem is the only other thing he can think of saying is, _“Thank you,”_ and, “Oh god, I was going to die again,” and, _“It’s going to happen one day, you know? Why fight it?”_ None of which he can or should voice.

“What are you even doing out here?” He settles on. Nice and neutral. “I thought the loud noises hurt your wolfy ears.” He feels the glare, even if he doesn’t see it because now they’re out of the alley they’re both moving quickly, jittery. Derek probably wants to go home and wash the blood out from his nails, get the scent of vampire (whatever scent that may be) off himself. Stiles couldn’t even smell the thing outside of his colonge of choice, and he still wants to scrub himself raw to make sure none of it lingers.

“You said there had been attacks in the area.” Derek says as he comes to a stop, and it’s not until then that Stiles even realises they’d been heading for his Jeep. He’s already got the key out and in the door, autopilots an amazing self help mechanism.

He squints at Derek suspiciously, “And you said that I was wrong and not to worry about it.”

“Which meant, of course, you were going to come out here looking on your own.” Derek folds his arms across his chest, but his body leans against the side of the Jeep in a casual laze. Stiles turns that reply over in his head to see if it’s an insult or an attack but comes up with nothing.

“Well if there was nothing to worry about, it wasn’t going to hurt was it?”

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice has a hint of surrender in it, like there is nothing he can do about any of this, “even if there isn’t trouble somewhere, you being there creates trouble.”

“Hey!” Because: Rude. But then the side of Derek’s mouth ticks up, and Stiles can see his body is still relaxed. The air is cold and quiet in the parkinglot and Stiles has the strange desire to kiss the man. It’s a blindside, but not a bad one, just a sudden realisation of things he hadn’t considered until that moment. If he were a braver man he’d act on it, but not tonight. Not with the feel of that creeper still all over his skin, not with the way Derek’s smiling like Stiles is entertainment all on its own. Tonight he’ll keep what he has, because it’s actually enough. Tomorrow though, he knows, he’ll wake up and start planning.


End file.
